


Fur Get Me Not

by bisasterdi



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pet Store, Aziraphale Is Adam's Godfather, Crowley POV, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is the owner of a pet store, First Kiss, First Meetings, Good AUmens, Human AU, M/M, New Beginnings, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisasterdi/pseuds/bisasterdi
Summary: Crowley's been doing just fine since he left London for a slower and quieter life in the country. He's the owner of a pet shop in a small village, spending his days in the shop helping people and their pets and his evenings...well, his evenings are quiet. It's all going fine, and then Adam Young bursts through the door to his shop, his godfather Aziraphale struggling to keep up. Up until the day he first met Aziraphale, Crowley thought he'd live out the rest of his days in solitude. Now? He's not so sure that's what he wants anymore.Written for the GO-Events Good AUmens AU Fest, to the prompt "Pet Shop".
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 87
Kudos: 407
Collections: Break in Case of Emergency: Fluff and Love, GO Meet-Cutes, Good AUmens AU Fest, Good Omens Human AUs





	Fur Get Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to my beta, Soap, for helping me clear up my language as well as my thoughts. Your help is invaluable.

The phone rang and Crowley glanced over at his assistant, Newt, only to find him busy with an intense woman who was asking a series of pointed questions about how to care for exotic birds. He'd just handed a teenager and his father who'd decided to adopt a puppy off to one of the animal rescue volunteers, so he wound his way through the crowd inside his shop to snatch up the receiver.

"Fur Get Me Not," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the low hum of conversations surrounding him, internally cringing yet again at the name he'd thought was so clever when he'd chosen it, and now sounded unbearably twee when he was forced to say it out loud.

The voice on the other end was strained, trying to ask for directions while constantly being interrupted by a second person who insisted that they weren't lost, they just hadn't found the right fork in the road yet. Crowley was trying to wedge a word in edgeways to tell them they were, indeed, going the wrong direction, when a young boy with curly, black hair burst in, followed closely behind by a white-haired man about Crowley's age. Like a feline-seeking missile, the boy zoomed off toward the cats that were all either asleep or trying to climb on each other in the open-top enclosure near the center of the shop.

"Adam," the man called, trying to catch up but having little luck making his way through the crowd with the ease that the boy had done. One of the volunteers tensed up as Adam peered over the edge of the enclosure, certainly moments from either lifting out several cats at once or clambering in himself, judging by his enthusiasm. Just as she was about to stop him, Crowley held up a hand to wave her off and came forward himself.

"Hi there. Adam, is it?" Crowley gestured strategically toward the cats just in time to keep Adam from reaching down with both hands, and the volunteer relaxed when the boy took a half step back. "Looks like you're interested in adopting a cat?" Adam grinned up at him, but just for a moment before he was back to watching the cats as several of them meowed up at him.

"Yeah, finally talked mum and dad into it."

"I think your father's just about here." Crowley took a peek over, eyebrows rising as he took in the white-haired man being too polite to interrupt Newt's ongoing exotic bird consultation to make his way through. "Oi, Newt. Let that man through, please? He's separated from his son."

"Oh, that's not my dad," Adam said, grinning back at the man who was now stammering out apologies to Newt as he slipped through. "That's my godfather. He's helping me adopt the cat as a present. It's my birthday tomorrow, but since the adoption whatsit was on today, they're letting me get him a day early."

"So, what age are you turning tomorrow?" Crowley pretended to think. "You look about...hmm...seventeen?"

"Sorry, you're pretty far wrong there, but I am mature for my age," Adam said, sticking out his chest and squaring his shoulders as Crowley tried very hard not to laugh. " 'S my eleventh birthday tomorrow."

"Adam, honestly," came a voice from over Crowley's shoulder. "I did  _ say  _ we needed to stay together."

"Sorry, Uncle Zira, just wanted to make sure I'd get best pick."

"Ah, these are all champions," Crowley said, sweeping his arm over the cat enclosure yet again to keep Adam from diving in with both hands. "We can arrange for a one-on-one for you once you've had a long, careful look over the lot of them, but we really do need you to obey the sign." Crowley nodded to one of the many signs near the top of the cage, this one just by Adam's right hand, which clearly read,  _ DO NOT PICK UP THE CATS _ .

"Right. I'll look 'em over." Adam knelt right there, his eyes trained on the cats as they moved around, narrowing his eyes at this one or that one as they caught his attention.

"Adam, dear, you really do need to pay more attention," the uncle said, and Crowley had somehow expected him to be annoyed or angry. He'd seen a lot of that, parents snapping at their kids when they made innocent mistakes, but this was different. The man's voice was gentle, almost soothing, as he corrected Adam, and Adam nodded solemnly up at him before engrossing himself with feline antics again.

"They're all brilliant. No idea how I'll pick just one." Adam's fingers curled around the wire separating him from the cats, chewing on his bottom lip.

"I'm afraid your parents were quite clear on that point. One cat and  _ only  _ one cat." The man looked at Crowley for the first time, a beatific smile spreading over his features and practically lighting him up from the inside. "I do appreciate the assist. I have rather a difficult time keeping up with this young man."

"I think there are track stars who would have the same trouble, so no shame there," Crowley said, smiling down at Adam before looking back up at his uncle, only to be hit full in the face with the particular gentle grace the man had about him. "I'm Crowley, the owner of the store," Crowley's voice supplied, while the rest of him was busy being knocked over backward by how immediately he was drawn to this man he'd seen for the first time only moments ago. The twenty year-old Crowley who was burrowed somewhere deep within his older counterpart was screaming something like,  _ 'What d'you say the two of us get out of here and get a drink,'  _ but the wisdom that had come with age allowed him to keep a lid on it.

"Aziraphale," the man told him, giving Crowley an extraordinary name to put to this delightfully uncommon man who'd come into his shop. "I'm not truly his uncle, just a friend of the family. A sort of godfather, if you will."

It was on the tip of Crowley's tongue to blurt out that he  _ would _ , he'd just like to know  _ when _ , but again—the wisdom that had come with age saved him. (Just.) Had he given in, it would have come out vulgar and crass, which was exactly like the old Crowley he'd intentionally left behind in London eight years ago when he'd decided to turn over a new leaf out in the countryside.

"Could I see that one, Mr. Crowley?" Adam asked, proving that he'd paid more attention to the adult conversation going on above him than he'd let on. "The black and white one...looks like he's got socks on?"

Crowley reached down and scooped up the cat, motioning the two of them over to a low table and a set of chairs in the corner. He was about to pull one of the chairs closer to the table when Adam dropped to the floor, bouncing lightly on his knees as he looked up for Crowley to deposit the animal in front of him. Aziraphale braced himself somewhat comically at the other side, hands out like a goalie, as though the cat would make a break for it the moment it had freedom. Crowley, on the other hand, had a suspicion that it would merely flop down in front of Adam and proceed to win itself a place in the household.

Crowley was right, of course. Cats might not have been his personal preference for a pet (his snake, Eden, often traveled with him to the shop to luxuriate in the deluxe enclosure set aside for her) but Crowley could read them well enough to know that this one had been Adam's from the moment the two had laid eyes on each other.

"D'you think you'll name him Socks?" Crowley asked innocently, winking at Aziraphale as he finally began to relax, his face softening as he watched the kitten batting at the toy Adam had scooped up from the table to wave in front of him. Adam just scoffed. "Too obvious, I suppose?"

"Oh no, Adam has a very particular naming convention for his pets," Aziraphale said, his head tilting as he watched Adam, exposing the fullness of his neck.

"See, first," Adam began, counting off on his fingers as the cat rolled onto his back, hugging the toy with all four of his legs and kicking at it as he also gave it a death bite, "there was Hamster. He was a—"

"Tree frog?" Crowley interrupted.

"Hamster," Adam said, with disbelief. "It'd be mad to name a frog Hamster. She lived for almost three and a half years. One of the oldest hamsters our vet had ever seen, said I must have taken good care of her."

"You had a vet for a hamster?" Crowley was too familiar with the way rodents were often treated as disposable pets, and he was always on the fence about continuing to host them for adoption in the shop. 

"All animals need a vet," Adam said sagely. "I've got a doctor, and mum says I have to get my shots even though they're rubbish, so Hamster had to go sometimes, too. But when Hamster was gone, I took a little time being sad and then dad said since I'd done such a good job with my first pet, we could try another. Started with Canary, who's bright yellow and sings when my mum asks him to. He's a good bird, and I take really good care of him. Took about a year before my dad let me get Dog."

"A pygmy goat!" Crowley cried, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't relish the fond smile Aziraphale gave him as Crowley made Adam laugh.

"No, Dog's a dog. Best dog in the world." Adam looked around himself, as though suddenly realizing there were a lot of other dogs here, waiting for their new owners to find them. "No offense to these dogs. It's not their fault they aren't Dog."

"Hang on, do you still have Dog?" Crowley's stomach twisted, knowing he'd have to warn the boy and hating the idea that this adoption might not work out after all. Adam nodded. "It can be hard to have a cat  _ and  _ a dog unless they're introduced when they're both very young. Has Dog been around other cats?"

"Oh, Dog would never do anything if I told him not to. And Cat here will get along great with him. I can tell."

Crowley pulled Aziraphale back a step, leaning in to talk to him so that Adam hopefully wouldn't overhear.

"His parents...are they prepared for what'll happen if this doesn't work out?" Crowley whispered, blocking out the feel of Aziraphale's hand cupping his elbow as they huddled together. "Adam'll be heartbroken, but it's dangerous to both animals if they're antagonistic to each other. He'd have to return the cat to the animal rescue. It's part of the agreement you'll sign."

"I do understand your concern." Aziraphale's soft voice was so gentle and quiet that Crowley had to strain to hear him. "Adam is uncommonly good with animals. I know it's an odd thing to say about an eleven year old, but you haven't seen him with Dog. He's trained him all on his own, watching videos on that You  _ Tube _ ."

Aziraphale put the stress on 'YouTube' in about the most incorrect way Crowley could've imagined. It shouldn't have had any effect other than making him wonder how this man could possibly be so unfamiliar with one of the biggest websites on the planet, but his idiotic stomach got fluttery and he had to take a deep breath to settle himself instead.

"Training a cat is an entirely different kettle of fish." Crowley felt his mouth curl into a smile, hoping he could tease another one out of Aziraphale as well. "You're about to tell me that Adam  _ has  _ a kettle of fish, each named Fish, and they can arrange themselves to spell out words on command?"

"Well, not quite," Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley found himself staring at the way the edges of Aziraphale's eyes crinkled when his smile was particularly spontaneous and genuine. "I can tell you that he and his parents read about the conditions for the adoption before they consented to me bringing him here, and they're prepared for that eventuality."

"You don't think it'll happen, do you?" Crowley just couldn't help asking.

"I intend to buy the food and other supplies to go with Cat in bulk, and I won't be worried about having to return them." Aziraphale bent to gently run his palm down Cat's back, and the cat twisted around to nose his face into Aziraphale's hand, chasing more scratches.

"You know that dogs and cats sometimes don't get along very well, don't you, Adam?" Crowley asked, raising his voice again, but he had the oddest feeling that Adam had overheard all of their private conversation, no matter how hard they'd tried to keep their voices down.

"Dog's a good dog. He does everything I say, so if I tell him to be nice to Cat...well, that's him sorted out." Adam looked very seriously at Cat, who was currently on his back, paws curled around Aziraphale's hand as the side of his face got scratched, his purring loud enough to be heard over the crowd bustling around them. "I watched all the cats 'til I found Cat in there. He'll train right up, I can tell."

"Adam, cats normally don't take to training the way dogs do," Crowley said, trying to get the idea across gently, but he was treated to one of Adam's scoffs in return.

"I'm sure you know a lot about animals, Mr. Crowley, but even I know you can train a cat. How d'you think all those cats get in movies and on TV shows?"

As worried as he was that this might not turn out the way Adam wanted, he'd done his due diligence in bringing up the issue with them, and with one long, lingering look at Aziraphale as he continued to scratch Cat's cheek, he passed them off to one of the volunteers to help them fill out the paperwork. 

He nearly went over to assist once they'd moved on to piling cat food and all the other necessities into a trolley, but he had to remind himself that he'd probably never see Aziraphale again after this. This was a one-time birthday treat from his godfather, and even if Adam returned to his shop, he'd likely be with his parents on future trips. It'd do Crowley no good to moon over someone he'd likely never see again. He needed to take it for what it was: a sure sign that he needed to get out more.

* * *

It was a thoroughly unremarkable Wednesday afternoon a few weeks later the next time Crowley heard Adam bursting into the shop. Crowley had thought of Aziraphale a few times since adoption day, though he'd tried very hard to stop—even spending a few hours here and there swiping left on various hookup apps until he'd gotten bored of it. 

There was no sense in allowing Adam's reappearance to catapult Aziraphale  _ back  _ into his thoughts, as Adam would surely be accompanied by his parents this time, instead of—

"It's fine, Adam dear," came the voice Crowley had tried to excise from his imagination. "I've got the allowance you've saved up right here in my wallet for safekeeping. Your mother was kind enough to slip it to me when she feared you might forget to bring it with you."

"Wicked," Adam said, and Crowley saw his slightly manic grin when he turned around to see Aziraphale and Adam standing in the front vestibule of the shop. "Hey, you're the one who helped me adopt Cat!"

Crowley waved off Newt and circled around from behind the counter, getting ready to introduce himself again, when Aziraphale beat him to it.

"Ah, of course. Good afternoon, Mr. Crowley."

"You can call me Crowley. Or Anthony, if you like, or…actually, Crowley's better." That earned him a laugh from Adam, but Aziraphale gave him a soft, delighted smile as their gazes connected and held for a beat longer than seemed strictly necessary. Some shopkeeper's reflex must have kicked in, because he heard himself asking if they needed help finding anything despite his brain having ground to a halt a few moments before.

"Well, it's Cat, you see," Adam began, craning his neck to look around the shop. "Had a few problems at first with him and Dog, but they're friends now."

"That's," Crowley paused, impressed. "That's rather good. I would've thought you’d still be having to separate them and introduce them in phases."

"Dog wasn't sure at first. Gave Cat a sniff, then a great  _ woof  _ right in his face. An' Cat didn't like that much. Reared up and hissed, then took off and hid under the sofa."

"But then—oh, I'm sorry Adam, it's just that it was so lovely." Aziraphale smiled once Adam nodded, giving permission for him to continue the story. "I happened to be over, checking in on Adam and Cat, when Dog just lay down and went to sleep right next to where Cat had been looking out the window. It took a few moments, but Cat tucked right in beside him, and they've gotten on ever since."

"Looks like it was meant to be," Crowley said, shaking his head. It was rare for a cross-species introduction to go so well, but then again, Aziraphale had clearly never doubted the boy for a second. "Everything smooth sailing, then? Just coming back in for supplies?"

"Well, there is a minor issue with Cat." Aziraphale gently put his palm on Crowley's arm and pulled him a step away from Adam, taking advantage of Adam's sudden interest in a display of fish. "Cat is quite keen to sharpen his claws on the furniture, I'm afraid. Adam's desperate for some advice to curtail the behavior, lest Cat find himself relegated to the back garden."

"Ah, that's very common. Lots of ways we can sort that out." Crowley nodded, trying to broadcast competence and put on the air of a man who could be trusted. Unfortunately for Crowley's attempt at  _ cool _ , Aziraphale's look of almost giddy relief and gratitude at having the problem lifted from his shoulders brought about a very peculiar reaction in Crowley's knees, which locked in place at first, and then felt so wobbly Crowley nearly had to steady himself on one of the aquariums to keep from falling over.

"Excellent!" Adam broke in, proving he'd been listening despite Aziraphale's attempt to (Crowley supposed) spare him that bit about Cat being banished to the garden.

"I can show you a few things over here," Crowley's mouth continued, mercifully taking over from his brain, which again, had temporarily ceased to function properly. 

He showed them his less-preferred options first, the deterrent sprays and the plastic claw covers. Adam was clearly the positive reinforcement type, so Crowley had anticipated the way Adam's face would scrunch up when confronted with the notion of a stick rather than the carrot.

"It'll take more attention from you, and a lot of consistency, but I think you'll like this next idea a lot better." Crowley led them to the back wall, where he had an array of cat furniture set up. "See, these are made of the kinds of things cats like to scratch, so you should be able to get him to take to it. If you give Cat a place that's his where he can do what his nature is telling him to do without getting him in trouble, there's a good chance you can keep all his sharpening to one of these. He'll start using it even faster if you give him a treat whenever you see him scratch on it."

"Ah, yes," Aziraphale chimed in. "I read about this. I seem to remember that it's also important to give the treat right away to avoid confusion?"

"Yeah, the experts say within three seconds," Crowley added, picturing Aziraphale poking through pet care books at the local library. "What were you reading, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I have several books in inventory that seemed promising, so I read through them when business was slow last week." Aziraphale shook his head. "Ah, I've gotten ahead of myself. I should have explained first that I'm an antiquarian bookseller, though I keep a brisk trade in a more modern used inventory as well." 

He reached into an inner pocket of his waistcoat, pulling out an off-white business card printed on thick, expensive-feeling stock. Crowley turned it over a few times in his hands just to feel it between his fingers before he squinted at it, taking in the information on the front.

"That's me, Crowley," Aziraphale told him, his voice lowering. "In case you ever find yourself in need of a book."

"These are wicked," Adam said, suddenly reappearing next to them after spending some time running his hands over the sea of beige scratching posts and platforms. "How much did mum say I have to spend?"

"Well," Aziraphale said, obviously hedging. "Why don't we ask Mr. Crowley for his recommendations, and then we'll see what we can do?"

Crowley had a feeling he could drag out a two hundred pound, multi-level cat scratcher monstrosity and Aziraphale would cover the difference no matter how much it was, just to see Adam happy. (Crowley would never do this, of course. Well, if the customer in question had been rude or an arsehole to their kid, he might've.)

They talked for a few minutes about what sorts of places Cat seemed to prefer in the house before Crowley narrowed in on the best choice, a squat little number with a perch at the top for Cat to sit in and watch the birds through the front window. Newt appeared, seemingly from nowhere, to pack it off to the till once the decision had been made.

"I have lovely news for you, Adam," Aziraphale said, and being reminded again of the gentle way Aziraphale treated Adam made Crowley swoon a little. "If the price that was marked on the tag is accurate, I believe you have enough left over to look at the leash you mentioned."

"For Dog?" Crowley guessed, though he was starting to understand that any assumption he made about Adam and his pets was destined to be proven wrong.

"Dog stays close to me on his own when we're out, and I already have one for him for when we're somewhere that makes him wear one. This one's for Cat."

Crowley sighed, walking them to another area of the store as he shared a look with Aziraphale that somehow made Crowley's hands and feet tingle.

"We do have leashes and harnesses for cats, Adam, but I should really tell you that they aren't that popular. Most cats are too independent for real leash training."

"Why the harness?" Aziraphale was leaning forward, peering over the top edge of his glasses at a dark blue cat-sized harness. Crowley wondered idly if Aziraphale transformed into a superhero when he took them off, turning from a mild-mannered Englishman into some sort of wild protector of the countryside. It didn't seem likely, but Crowley would sure love to see it regardless.

"Cats are flexible, y'see." Newt's voice carried over from where he was stocking a nearby shelf. Crowley hadn't registered a gap in the conversation long enough for Newt to break in with the answer, but then again, he'd been preoccupied. "If you just attach a leash to their collar, they'll contort around trying to slip out of the whole thing and put pressure on their neck. The harness is a lot safer."

"Thanks, Newt. Yeah, that's exactly it," Crowley said, turning so that only Newt could see his face and giving him a  _ look  _ to encourage him to find work elsewhere. Newt had practically disappeared by the time Adam began to debate with himself about which colors Cat would prefer.

"You'll need the smallest size harness for Cat, but other than that, I'll leave you to it until you're ready to check out." With that, Crowley slunk back to the front of the store, deciding to get out before he did or said something to make a complete arse of himself.

They followed along soon afterward, but it had been enough of a respite for Crowley to give himself a stern talking-to. He felt ready to face them again without melting internally at the mere sight of Aziraphale, and it was going fine right up until Aziraphale passed the harness, leash, and a little bag of treats over the counter with a warm smile—then Crowley was lost all over again.

He rang everything up, tapping the screen impulsively to give them a discount on the cat furniture, and watched Aziraphale look puzzled once Crowley announced the total.

"Are you altogether certain? That seems rather low…" Aziraphale murmured, his eyes flitting over each of the items, and Crowley could practically  _ see  _ him doing the mental arithmetic to add it all up.

"Must have missed the sign in the back. There's a sale on this week for the cat furniture."

Newt's head whipped around at this, tilting in confusion as he looked between Crowley and the rear of the store. That earned him another  _ look  _ from Crowley, and Newt suddenly found that the bird food aisle was in urgent need of straightening.

Aziraphale tucked a few pound notes back into his billfold, smiling down at his hands before he looked up and turned the full force of it on Crowley. Crowley, for his part, was certain that his tongue had just developed the ability (against all odds and known anatomical science) to sweat.

He really had to pull himself back together.

And that was a great plan, a really solid idea, until he watched Aziraphale pick up the cat furniture, which was very heavy for its size to keep it from tumbling over whenever a cat jumped on it, with one hand without even a pause or any outward signs of strain.

"Thank you so much again, Crowley," Aziraphale said, still pointing that smile at innocent shopkeepers when he turned to say goodbye, backlit with sunlight and standing in the doorway.

In his head, Crowley imagined he'd said something really cool, or at least a completely normal response that any reasonable person could have given.

In reality, he was fairly certain he'd made a noise that was unintelligible in any language, and brought up one hand to wave a shaky,  _ desperately  _ uncool goodbye.

* * *

On an uncharacteristically bright Saturday morning—it had rained the three days before and would rain again the three days after—Crowley had been in the shop for an extra hour prior to opening, getting everything ready. "Pets Welcome" day was something he took seriously, and it was important to him that nothing was left out that might cause harm to any of the animals who might be visiting. He and Newt had finally finished rearranging things and putting out complimentary treat stations when it was time to open for the day.

He wasn't terribly surprised to see Adam through the window of the shop's door, as he'd been in with his parents several times for supplies. That was what led to him flipping open the lock before he'd prepared himself to see Aziraphale walk in as well, and what caused him to stammer like an idiot before he got himself together and told them hello.

Cat was with Adam, his tiny face pointed upward as his nose worked, taking in the unfamiliar smells of his new environment. The harness fit him well, and he mostly kept up with Adam as they bustled in.

Aziraphale was holding the leash of an uncommonly well-behaved black and white terrier mix, a small creature who could only be Dog. Even through the fluttering of his stomach at seeing Aziraphale again, Crowley couldn't help bending down to offer his hand for Dog to sniff before giving him a pat on the head.

"Morning, Mr. Crowley!" Adam called out, grinning down at Cat and then looking up again at Crowley. "He's doing brilliant, don't you think?"

Adam walked back and forth, giving a demonstration of Cat's leash training. Cat played along at first, though he stopped to sniff at a box on the lowest shelf on their second turn, plopping down to sit like a Sphinx after thoroughly investigating it. Adam had stopped moving right away when Cat paused, and he seemed content to stand and wait until Cat decided to get back up.

"That's quite good," Crowley hedged, internally acknowledging that most cats don't take to being walked at all, but he couldn't help asking about Adam's leash technique. "A good start. But is he really leash-trained if he stops whenever he feels like it?"

"Well, y'see," Adam began, reaching down to give a very pleased Cat a scratch around the ears, "the only trouble I've had training Cat is when I try to keep him from something he really wants to do. Cat likes to look at things, so when he stops, I let him. When I need him to move, though, he helps me out and gets going again."

As if to demonstrate, Adam looked down at Cat and then started walking again, slowly at first, and Cat unfolded his legs and trotted up to walk at Adam's side.

"I suppose it's a good lesson, isn't it?" Aziraphale asked, from just over Crowley's shoulder. "Learning how to compromise at his age will certainly stand Adam in good stead for years to come."

"I could probably have done with learning that earlier than I did," Crowley acknowledged, earning a chuckle from Aziraphale. There were the eye crinkles again. 

"Adam was so excited for this." Aziraphale looked around, beaming at every corner as though it wasn't a completely mundane pet shop, and nearly identical to the last time he'd seen it. "He was hoping it was permissible to bring Cat along. His parents feared this was more of a canine affair."

"All creatures welcome," Crowley said, though he made a mental note to keep an eye out for dogs who weren't as friendly with cats as Dog was. "I've brought my own pet in today, as well."

"Oh?" Aziraphale said, looking around, and Crowley waved him over to Eden's enclosure. She was coiled up on the heated side, her white head tucked neatly on top of her body, showing off the rosy pink stripe that ran down her back. Crowley braced for him to react with displeasure, as many people did with snakes, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Aziraphale gasped with delight, leaning forward until his nose was nearly touching the glass. "Oh,  _ Crowley _ . How lovely she…she?" Aziraphale asked.

"She, right," Crowley choked out, watching Aziraphale manage Dog's leash while staring at Eden, enraptured.

"How lovely she is." Aziraphale's head tilted, mouth coming slightly open as Eden flicked out her tongue, and Crowley was momentarily jealous of his snake's ability to entrance Aziraphale. "And of course she'd be yours. You must care for her marvelously to keep her looking so enchanting."

"Do my best," Crowley said, feeling slow and dull. Every time he was around Aziraphale, he felt as though his feet were being continually knocked out from under him. It was a sensation he was trying to keep under wraps, lest he out himself as an idiot.

"What's her name?"

"Eden," Crowley said, deciding to stare at his snake instead of at Aziraphale. "I adopted her when I moved from London. The garden at my cottage was so green and overgrown, I started calling her Eden when it just popped into my head after taking her out there to sun."

"It sounds lovely," Aziraphale said, and Crowley could see his smiling reflection in the glass. "The garden, I mean. Eden is here for me to see, and  _ clearly  _ gorgeous."

"It's better now—the garden, I mean. There were a lot of good plants there among the overgrowth, and once it was tamed back, it's been thriving."

"Oh, you have so many talents, Crowley. I can't care for plants at all, I'm afraid. Get wrapped up in a book or two and I tend to forget them for too long, the poor dears. I've stopped purchasing them; couldn't bear the guilt of allowing another to turn brown and expire."

It was on the tip of his tongue to offer up any plant Aziraphale wanted, to drop by and make sure it was watered and fertilized. Could just leave the key under the mat, he'd be quiet as a church mouse and be in and out without interrupting Aziraphale's reading at all. 

But that was  _ insane _ , and pathetic besides, so Crowley's mouth had the good sense to keep itself shut. Adam chose that moment to shout over, saving Crowley from overruling his mouth and making a fool out of himself.

"Uncle!"

Aziraphale's eyes met Crowley's in the glass, their reflections staring at each other for just a moment before they both turned away. 

"They have more of these crinkle ball things," Adam called out, taking one down from the display and showing it to a now very attentive Cat. "Can I get a couple more, d'you think? Cat hides them sometimes and it makes it hard to work on training."

"Of course, dear. Add a few to the basket, that's fine."

"Those mylar toys are popular with cats," Crowley said, feeling like an idiot for making this kind of lame small-talk when he really wanted to just ask Aziraphale if he was free for the next forty or fifty years, and if perhaps he might like some company from time to time.

"Hey, Mr. Crowley? Want to see a fetch trick?"

"Oh, can Dog fetch? You're a proper dog trainer, Adam, well do—"

"Not Dog," Adam said. "Well, Dog can fetch, of course. Taught him ages ago. Practically did it on his own. Cat's taken a bit longer to catch on, but I think he's getting it."

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, who gave a little shrug.

"I've seen it myself, just this morning when I picked up Adam and the pets."

"All right for me to let him off the leash for a minute? Cat likes it better when he really has to run for it." Adam was already bending down to unhook the leash from the harness, so Crowley took a good look around, didn't see anything that would be dangerous to Cat, and told him to go ahead.

Crowley had seen videos of similar stuff on the internet, cats who jumped around and appeared to retrieve some item or another in return for a treat. He'd never seen it in person, and knowing that cats generally weren't interested in anything like this, he'd always assumed most of the videos were faked.

"We're paying for this later, all right?" Adam asked, holding up the cat toy and getting another agreement from Crowley before he snapped the toy off the backing card. "Cat, want a treat?" Adam asked, squishing the toy in his hand, and Cat perked up at the bright, squeaky noise of it. "There you are!"

The toy sailed through the air, landing on the other side of the shop, and Cat tore after it. Dog gave an approving  _ woof _ from where he sat at Aziraphale's feet, and Adam jogged over to the counter that Crowley was standing behind. Cat came bouncing back, toy firmly crunched in his mouth, and waited while Adam patted the top of the counter. That made Cat run again, taking a leap when he was close enough and deftly landing on the countertop, looking at Adam before he let the ball drop out of his mouth.

"He's looking for a treat," Adam said with an impish grin. 

Well, there was nothing else for it, was there? Crowley opened the container of cat treats he had on the counter and took out a couple, about to set them down for Cat before Adam stopped him.

"Just one, please, Mr. Crowley. Can't let Cat think this is a multi-treat trick, or I'll be runnin' out of them all the time."

Feeling ever more certain that Adam would grow up to be either an animal trainer, a criminal mastermind, or a politician, Crowley only let one of the treats fall out of his hand and watched Cat nibble it up. Adam was there a moment later to clip the leash back on, but Cat rode in the crook of his arm for the rest of their visit.

Cat sat there, head up high like a cat who had nothing else to prove, and Crowley, sadly, got pulled away by other customers coming in. He didn't see Newt ringing Adam and Aziraphale up until it was too late, and they were gone. 

* * *

It was several weeks later, about ten minutes until closing time, when Crowley saw Aziraphale again.

Crowley had been slumped behind the till, counting the seconds until he could close up. He wanted to be home, maybe curl up under a blanket, play something stupid on Netflix, and just doze. Business had been light that day, the shop was already fully stocked and organized, and Crowley was nearly bonkers after having so little to do for so long.

He heard the shop door open and was about to call out that he'd be closing soon when he turned and looked over his shoulder, seeing Aziraphale (alone, this time) standing awkwardly in the vestibule. He was carrying a large satchel in front of him, holding onto it with both hands.

"Adam at home this time?" Crowley said, then kicked himself for making it sound as though Aziraphale wasn't welcome on his own.

"Ah. Yes, I'm afraid." Aziraphale took one step forward, but then stopped again. He seemed nervous, so very different from the other times he'd been here. "I was hoping to ask you…well, I mean to say, I was wondering…" He trailed off, looking helplessly at Crowley, pleading for  _ something  _ with his eyes and making Crowley want nothing more than to set right whatever had gone wrong.

"Are you all right?" Crowley asked, genuinely worried at how out of sorts Aziraphale seemed.

"Yes!" Aziraphale answered, too quickly, and a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes widened the corners of his mouth. "I'm merely regretting not getting more information from Adam's mother when she phoned me earlier today. Adam's sick, the poor boy, and he's running out of pet treats. She was hoping I'd be able to stop by and pick some up for him."

"Poor old Adam," Crowley said, and he was hardly able to picture the boy as anything other than completely healthy and bustling around the shop. 

"I forgot, you see," Aziraphale said, stumbling over his words in an odd way, "what sort of treats Adam likes to buy. He's very particular, especially about things for his pets."

"C'mon," Crowley said, treating Aziraphale very gently because he still seemed oddly fragile. "Let me take you over there, and I'll show you what Adam usually gets."

Crowley pulled down a few bags: one for Dog, one for Cat, and a small packet of millet for Canary. Aziraphale seemed to settle as Crowley asked if he needed anything else, then led them back to the till to ring him up.

"It must be difficult to remember all these little details," Aziraphale said as they walked. "I feared I'd have to try to use my mobile to call Adam's mother, and I'm afraid I'm still quite useless with the thing."

"It's a small village," Crowley said, shrugging off the implied compliment. "And Adam is quite memorable."

_ That  _ got a real smile out of Aziraphale, and Crowley smiled back.

"I really need to thank you," Aziraphale said, his smile faltering. "I'm not very good with children and sometimes I have trouble relating to Adam now that he's getting older." There was a nervous chuckle at that. "Used to be able to charm him with a sweet and perhaps a magic trick when I came by, but now he has all these  _ ideas  _ and  _ plans  _ and I'm never quite sure what to say."

"But you're so good with him," Crowley said, before he could stop himself.

"That's kind of you," Aziraphale said, his eyes flitting up to meet Crowley's before they fell to the counter again. "I wish it felt as natural to me as that."

The shop's phone rang just then, and Crowley barely suppressed a groan, but then he heard Newt pick up the line in the back room, calling out the name of the shop into the receiver. Crowley made a mental note to give the boy a raise. Newt had been packing up to leave not long before Aziraphale appeared, and Crowley'd thought he'd skived off a few minutes early. The call would most likely have ended his conversation with Aziraphale, and Crowley really didn't want him to leave yet.

"The name of the shop," Aziraphale said, with the air of a man who was happy to find a subject change. "How ever did you think of it?"

Crowley sighed, putting a little theatricality into it, and rolled his eyes.

"Fur Get Me Not? I suppose I thought it was clever when I was first starting the place. I worked for the The Royal Parks department in horticulture before I moved out of London, so I suppose it felt like an inside joke, of sorts."

"Oh, that is rather fun," Aziraphale agreed. "I wondered if it had something to do with your plants…the garden you mentioned, last time I was here?"

The nervous fluttering started in Crowley's stomach again, the feeling familiar from each one of Aziraphale's previous visits. He'd never considered that Aziraphale might remember anything of their other meetings, other than perhaps to wonder if that poor shopkeeper was  _ always  _ so tongue-tied and awkward.

"Guess I thought I should carry some of my first career over to this one," Crowley said, shrugging, and almost dared to hope that he might have something to do with the dusting of pink on Aziraphale’s cheeks.

"It's charming," Aziraphale said, as they kept staring at each other. It was about to drive Crowley mad when Aziraphale suddenly looked down at the forgotten treats he was meant to be buying and asked how much he owed.

"Oh," Crowley said, looking down at them too. "Already closed the till, I'm afraid," he lied. "Go ahead and take them for Adam. Get well present."

"I couldn't," Aziaphale protested. "Surely I could just give you cash and you could—"

"My treat, Aziraphale. I insist."

"Ah," Aziraphale said, still looking down, and his memory seemed to kick in again to remind him of the satchel he was carrying. "In that case, I happen to have something with me that I thought might interest you. I have it here, unless I'm keeping you?"

"No. No!" Crowley said, too quickly. "Let me just lock up, so no one gets any ideas about some late shopping."

"Well, they'd be out of luck," Aziraphale said. "You've closed the till."

"Yes. That," Crowley agreed awkwardly, as he slunk from behind the counter to throw the lock on the door. By the time he'd turned back around, Aziraphale had a weathered book cradled in his hands.

"I was on a buying trip to Sydney last week," Aziraphale explained, holding out the book until Crowley took it from him. "It's Edgar Waite's  _ The Reptiles and Amphibians of South Australia _ , nearly a century old." 

"Woah," Crowley said, extending his arms out as though the book was about to explode. "I probably shouldn't just go handling it like this, then, you should—" 

"I bought it as part of a larger lot, you see," Aziraphale continued, almost as though Crowley hadn't spoken, "and I was wondering if you might like to have it."

"It's…for—"

"The information in the book is somewhat outdated, of course, but there's over one hundred lovely illustrations inside, and those are thoroughly enjoyable." Aziraphale swallowed hard enough for Crowley to see his Adam's apple work up and down in his throat. "There are marbled endpapers, which are a nice touch for a book of this time period, and I should note there's minimal foxing on the prelims, but otherwise it's a clean and bright copy." 

"I…" Crowley blinked a few times, looking down at the book and then back up at Aziraphale, who had dropped the treats into his satchel and picked it up again.  _ What  _ could this  _ mean? _

"I'd love if you would keep it."

Oh. Well, that's all Aziraphale had to say. 

"Of course." Crowley tried to get his dry tongue to unstick itself and move. "Can I reimburse you for it?"

"No," Aziraphale said, smiling softly, his eyes shining in the darkening light as the sun set outside. "My treat."

Crowley would love to say that he'd done something suave and debonair after that, offering to walk Aziraphale out or perhaps to make it his life's work to entertain him for the next several decades, whichever sounded better to Aziraphale, but he hadn't had the nerve. They parted without much fanfare, exchanging pleasantries that Crowley couldn't remember later, and it ended with Crowley clutching his book to his chest as he watched Aziraphale walk to his car in the lot.

* * *

It was the next day, about an hour after Crowley opened the shop, when Aziraphale suddenly appeared again. Crowley wasn't sure what he'd been expecting—whether it would be several weeks before he'd see him, or if that gift of the book was Aziraphale's way of saying goodbye—but the notion of him being here again so soon had never occurred to Crowley.

Someone should  _ warn  _ a man. Crowley wasn't  _ prepared. _

"Did I give you the wrong stuff?" Crowley asked, though he was certain he hadn't, but what else would explain Aziraphale's perplexingly early return?

"Oh," Aziraphale said, and froze in place. "No, the treats were—well, they were just the thing. Adam asked me to thank you."

They stood there, staring at each other, for a long moment. Crowley wasn't sure what to say. Had Aziraphale come all the way back just to deliver Adam's thank you for the treats?

"I'll just," Aziraphale said, looking around, then practically throwing himself at the stack of shopping baskets to take one. "I'll just browse a bit, shall I?"

"Of course." Crowley settled back in, trying to keep himself from hovering, and busied himself checking on Eden. Barely a few minutes had passed before he heard a loud crash, and when he turned to see what Newt had managed to knock over this time, Aziraphale was standing over the upended display of dog food instead.

"Oh,  _ goodness _ .  _ Crowley _ , I'm so terribly sorry." Aziraphale fell to his knees, trying to gather up the cans and stack them up, but he was so flustered that half of them fell to the floor again.

"It's fine," Crowley said, rushing over, and he bent down and put his hands on Aziraphale's to stop him before he really considered what he was doing.  _ Something  _ happened when they made contact, a feeling Crowley would bet the most advanced science couldn't possibly explain or put a label on, and he pulled back as though he'd been burnt. "I can straighten this up, Aziraphale, it's fine. It's nothing my assistant, Newt, doesn't do most days…me too, if I'm honest."

"Are you sure that I can't—well, I suppose I've done enough. Perhaps I'll just look at the cat things instead?" 

"Looking for another present for Adam?"

"Considering it," Aziraphale said, but it had taken him a moment to answer, and he looked oddly miserable about it.

"Adam's all right, isn't he?"

"Yes." This time, the answer came quickly. "He'll be right as rain in a few days, I'm sure."

Crowley wanted to ask what was wrong if it wasn't (to Crowley's relief) bad news about Adam, but Aziraphale's shoulders dropped like his marionette's strings had been cut and he shuffled off to the cat toys aisle before he could. 

Once Crowley had replaced all the cans of dog food, he looked over to see Aziraphale squinting through his glasses at the small print on the package of a catnip toy, reading it intently, as though it contained the secrets of the universe. Crowley sighed, deciding that Aziraphale would tell him if he needed anything, and was heading back toward the till when there was another loud noise behind him.

This time, Aziraphale was holding up a rotating display of cat toys, which had apparently begun to tip over. Crowley rushed over, helped Aziraphale right it, and decided that he had to do  _ something _ or he wouldn't have a shop left at the end of the day.

"Aziraphale, I'm going to ask Newt to come out and cover the front for me, all right? There's a place in the back office where you can sit until you're feeling better."

"I suppose…that's very kind of you, Crowley."

"Nonsense," Crowley said. "I'm a monster, really, I just have a shop to protect."

"Well, all right then," Aziraphale agreed, with a small smile, and Crowley's heart leapt to see it. "Lead the way."

Once Newt was sent out and he'd settled Aziraphale on the sofa in his office, he went to shut the door but then thought better of it. He didn't want Aziraphale to feel trapped, but if he wanted privacy, maybe it would better to— 

Continuing to vacillate, he stood there like a prat with his hand on the doorknob, moving the door back and forth before his brain just pulled up stakes and gave up.

"Crowley, I'm so very sorry. I really should have been paying more attention."

"I'm not concerned about any of that, Aziraphale, but there's clearly something wrong. You don't have to tell me, and I don't have to stay here if you just need somewhere to…to put yourself back together. I can go and let you—"

"Please stay, Crowley. I'll try to explain."

"You don't have to," Crowley protested.

"But I'd like to," Aziraphale said, and he looked miserable again. "I truly would." He hung his head, and Crowley began to contemplate what could possibly be so awful when Aziraphale appeared to change his mind about talking. He got to his feet and paced, taking a few steps toward the door before his hand closed into a fist and he turned back, looking as though he'd like to sit back down but perhaps had forgotten how.

"You're certain Adam is all right?" Crowley asked, hating to belabor the point, but he couldn't imagine what else would make Aziraphale  _ this _ upset and also bring him here to talk to Crowley, of all people, about it.

"He's fine. Just a head cold. I wanted—" Aziraphale's mouth clamped shut and he looked helpless, his eyes begging for Crowley to somehow intuit what was wrong so he wouldn't have to say it.

Crowley had a sudden thought, an awful one, that perhaps Aziraphale had gotten some bad news for himself. Had his business taken a hit? Had he been to the doctor? Christ, was  _ Aziraphale  _ sick? But why would he come  _ here? _

"I was going to ask you last night, you see. My nerve failed me. I just gave you the book and left."

"'S a nice book," Crowley told him, and he wasn't lying. He'd paged through it the night before, sipping a glass of red wine and tracing the lines of the illustrations with his fingers. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about Aziraphale seeing the book and bringing it all the way back to England. To Crowley. It had almost been enough to give him hope, except that it was utterly mad to think anything like that about a customer he'd only seen a handful of times.

"I meant to tell you about something else," Aziraphale said, clearing his throat when his voice came out raspy. "There's a lovely café opening this weekend, not too far from here. They've styled it after a greenhouse, and it sounds remarkable. Glass walls and ceiling, plants everywhere, and the menu looks divine."

"That…" Crowley began, wondering why this piece of information had been important enough for Aziraphale to come back again so soon, or make him so twitchy that he'd nearly destroyed the store rather than just spit it out. "Sounds interesting?"

"I'm rather a connoisseur of the finer restaurants of the area," Aziraphale continued, "and as a result, I'm sometimes invited to preview nights for establishments like these."

"I...I hope you like it?" Crowley said, knowing he sounded like an idiot, but he wasn't sure what else to say.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said on a sigh, sounding pained. "I've been invited to their pre-opening event this Friday." He touched his hand to his forehead momentarily, and then gave Crowley another beseeching look. "Along with a plus one."

"With a…?"

"I've seen photos, and it looks stunning. The food should be marvelous, and with all the plants on display, I thought perhaps you might enjoy it as well." Aziraphale ended with a ' _ Well there, I've said it, now what?' _ look on his face.

"You want me to—"

"Would you, Anthony Crowley, accompany me to dinner this Friday night?"

It was oddly formal, terribly awkward, and more than Crowley had ever hoped for. He couldn't help it—he was sure that the grin appearing on his face was the dopiest one on record. Years of fostering a very specific _look_ , crafting that perfect _don't give a damn_ attitude, all of that was destroyed now. He'd never be cool again.

"I'd love to. I can have Newt close up for me if you'd like to leave before eight."

"That would be lovely—" Aziraphale began, nodding, and this was entirely too businesslike for Crowley's taste.

"I was going to ask you something as well, as it happens." Crowley leaned back in his chair, hoping that Aziraphale hadn't noticed that he'd nearly tipped it over before he'd readjusted to right himself. 

"Of course," Aziraphale said evenly, looking pleased, but more than a little confused.

"I think I might be finding a few tickets to a—oh, something or other," Crowley said, running through a mental catalog of everyone he knew who might owe him a favor, "in London for Saturday night. Be a shame for me to go alone."

"It would," Aziraphale said, his smile soft as he looked down, then back up at Crowley.

"And I'll owe you a favor after you take me along to this new restaurant. Least I can do, really, to offer you the second ticket."

"Very equitable," Aziraphale said, and it was like the sun was dawning and every star in the sky was coming out, all at the same time, as he smiled and his whole face glowed with it.

"Sod it, Aziraphale," Crowley drawled lazily, another play at regaining his cool, but he didn't really care if it worked or not. "Mine's a date. Yours?"

"Also a date." Aziraphale nodded, blushing so prettily now that Crowley desperately wanted to kiss him, but surely that would be moving too fast.

Aziraphale didn't appear to agree, thank everything holy and otherwise in the universe. He leaned over, and when his face was just centimeters from Crowley's, he asked, "Is this all right?" When Crowley nodded, Aziraphale closed the rest of the distance, pressing their lips together for the briefest of soft kisses.

Crowley didn't remember walking him out, but he must have. The next thing he knew, he was watching Aziraphale wave to him from his car as Crowley looked on, a lovesick fool already, from just inside the door to his shop. It was the new beginning he'd never seen coming, and he couldn't wait to find out what would happen next.


End file.
